where feet may fail
by Anera527
Summary: There's a very good reason why Steve Rogers is afraid of the water.
1. Chapter 1

" _ **where feet may fail"**_

A/N: Written because I am fairly cynical about the fact that Steve is able to swim so well in the _First Avenger_.

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The battle was going well so far. It was chaotic, and it was violent, yes, but it was being kept within the boundaries that Cap had set. Those on the ground were keeping on top of the action rather than being bogged down by it, and those in the air were able to keep the invaders busy enough that most of the buildings weren't being torn to pieces.

For the most part, anyway.

The guttural roar of the Avengers' big green Other Guy echoed wildly for the whole city to hear (whether it was from anger or plain enjoyment none of them knew), and with enough force to shake the pavement several yards below him he landed on the side of the skyscraper. The alien he was chasing had time only to let out a squeak before the Hulk's strong hands crushed its chest, taking out a large chunk of stone with him as he slammed the creature back.

Below him, back to back with Black Widow, Captain America spared a split second to look up before catching his shield. "Move!"

At his command Natasha lithely sprang from her crouch, having just taken down one of the creatures, and used his fellows' distraction to her advantage, taking out two more in the time it took for the stone to fall. As she landed a familiar shield went spinning past her to hit a third. Leaping over the sizable chunk of broken skyscraper Steve looked up again.

"Watch for friendlies, Hulk, yeah?"

The Captain's dry remark garnered a low growl of acknowledgement from the Hulk and then the Other Guy was gone again, leaping away to take care of a sizable cloud of the aliens currently flying by. The one he'd crushed fell bonelessly to the ground, narrowly missing the two Avengers on the ground.

The street was temporarily quiet, a welcome reprieve. Having sidestepped the body as it landed, Cap shook his head with a quiet sigh.

Natasha smirked. "At least he acknowledged you this time."

That, at least, garnered a small grin. "Better than some others, anyway."

It was rare that Cap made a jab at his teammates, but Natasha's smirk widened for a moment. Then they were back to fighting again, diving into the fray of battle as they tried to reach the rest of their team.

These were creatures very unlike the Chitauri had been during the battle of New York four months ago; where the Chitauri had been coordinated and sleek in an odd way, graceful despite their bulk, these creatures were large and humanoid, covered in short sleek "fur" (it didn't really look like hair, and it really didn't feel it either, but that was what it looked like), and had long gossamer wings which really didn't do a whole lot for coordination. If considered they seemed a bit like bumblebees.

"Where the hell did these guys come from anyway?" Tony Stark's annoyed voice crackled over the comms, loud in their ears and overlapping with the familiar whine of Iron Man's repulsor rays. "I mean, we were having a normal day, right? Perfectly normal, and it's like life has it out for us to never have _those_."

"Cut the chatter, Stark," Cap said, the previous rare flash of humor gone. He leaped over a last chunk of rock and had to land awkwardly and unbalanced when another one of the creatures jumped out at him from a shadowed alcove, hissing its anger. Cap didn't think, only acted: using his still-shifting momentum he leaned on his left foot and swung his body into a perfect pirouette, throwing his shield at the same time.

The creature shrieked when its wings were severed and it fell with a crash into the pavement below.

Natasha finished using her Widow's sting on one of them and turned, looking to see if there were any others in their general vicinity, and her eyes widened.

"Steve!"

Too late. Cap's shield was knocked aside as a second creature crawled out of nowhere, shooting out of the shadows with a screech of anger and heading towards the Avengers' leader, long sharp claws bared for pain. Before Natasha could move, before Cap could even see what she had warned him about, the creature had snatched him up.

"Damn it!" Natasha sprinted away, aiming to reach the rest of the Avengers. She and Steve hadn't been that far away anyway. "Guys, one of the aliens took Cap. Tony, Thor, can you see them?"

The comms crackled again. "Nope. Jarvis, see if you can pick 'em up on our scanners."

"Corner of Fifth," Cap's voice said in Natasha's ear. She could barely hear him over the sound of rushing wind and the battle still raging around her.

"We're coming to get you, Cap." Hawkeye's steady voice replied. Clint was the best at keeping an even tone no matter the situation, and it was he who most of the time kept them from panicking if things took a turn for the worse. Him and Steve, and it was funny in a messed up way to hear said Captain reply just as calmly as Hawkeye had.

"I can't break its hold—hands are too strong." There was a flurry, a moment of silence, as if he were trying to escape it.

"Don't think you'd survive a drop like that anyway, Gramps," Tony said. "You really need to learn how to fly."

There was a low grunt, whether it was from amusement or effort none of them knew. There was no trace of humor in Cap's voice when he replied—it was clear that Steve was still solely focused on the battle itself and not his predicament. "Tony, I've just passed Sutton Rd—"

"Oh, that street has a great shawarma joint—"

"—you're running pick-up now, and everyone else keep these guys detained—"

And then he abruptly cut off in mid-sentence. "Cap? Cap, hey, answer me! C'mon, this isn't the time to give us the silent treatment."

For a split second the comms crackled with static again, ominous in its white noise, and Natasha heard the Hulk roar in frustration at the silence from their leader. Natasha's heart was flying in her chest, not completely from adrenaline, running as fast as she could to the thick of the fighting, hoping, almost praying—and then Steve's voice came one last time for all of them to hear.

" _Shit!"_

And then silence.

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The water around Steve was hot and frothing but to him was _cold_ , completely freezing, and it was driving him into a state of panic. He didn't know how it quite happened but he had realized just after trying to issue orders to the team of just where the alien was taking him and he had really fought to get away then. One thing led to another, and the creature's hold had been too strong to break even with all of his serum-enhanced strength, and they had gone into the writhing water of the Hudson together.

He thought he had the right to swear before he landed. He really did, and sometimes his life really wasn't fair.

There was one very specific tiny little secret that people didn't know about Steve Rogers. A very obvious tiny little secret when you really thought about. It wasn't written down anywhere; it wasn't something never thought of as important in medical records, and the army certainly never asked him about it.

See, the tiny little secret that was so very obvious was that Steve Rogers _couldn't swim_.

Growing up an asthmatic weak-limbed kid had never been the best option to learn, and it was difficult in the city anyway to find a place to swim. The local pool had been available, sure, but it was still cost money to go and if Steve ever spent money he earned it was either to help his overworked mother or go to the rare basketball game with Bucky. Swimming had never been an interest of his.

He sure wished he had learned now.

The murky waters of the Hudson closed over his head; beside him he could feel the vibrations of the alien struggling beside him, clearly just as lost as Steve himself was, but it was too late to worry about it. The world was upside down and backwards, shimmering with the filtered light of the sun, confusing and eerie, and the only thing he could remind himself was to _not breathe in_.

Then the panic started. The water turned cold, biting into his skin, freezing his limbs. He was back on the _Valkyrie_ , and the icy Arctic water was running into the shattered cockpit. He had been knocked unconscious from the initial impact, hitting his head on the edge of the console, and it had been the ice that had awoken him.

Steve had never told anyone how he had drowned and frozen. The medics and consolers he had spoken with had automatically made the assumption that the water had filled the ship quickly and that had been the end of it.

It hadn't been.

Whether or not it was the strength of the glass he didn't know but whatever it was the open view glass pane hadn't broken away completely. The water had come in, yes, but not so quickly. He had woken, dazed and confused, to find his left leg had been broken from the impact and his right bleeding from a gash, and bright red staining the frigid water by his head.

It had already started to freeze.

And he had tried to get up, had tried to move, terror steadily growing when he realized what was going to happen, but his legs had already been stuck and the water was steadily rising, choking his breath from his lungs at its glacial temperature.

It had been slow.

Ice covering his mouth, coating his throat, filling his lungs, freezing his heart. And he had struggled, and fought, and wept, and finally he had given up. He was going to die.

Drowning was not an easy way to go.

And here he was, drowning for the second time in his life, unable to figure out up from down with an alien dying right beside him, and the terror was no less than it had been the first time.

This time, however, the water came all at once.

This time, the end came quicker.

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"Damn it!" Tony's voice was strained with the knowledge that he had so far failed to find their wayward Captain, even with Jarvis frantically scanning for any signs of Steve's unique bio-signature. He had flown over so many streets and buildings, passing the ruins of the battle still half-heartedly raging in the streets of Manhattan, and had found nothing.

"Anything yet, Stark?" Hawkeye's cool voice came crackling over the com; Tony's sensors picked up an explosion behind him brought about by one of Clint's arrows.

He swallowed down a nervous lump in his throat. "Nothing yet." His voice was dry; it made his voice rough. He hoped it would make him only sound irritable.

The tension conveyed in the crackling of the comms, however, was a giveaway of all of their fears. The Avengers did not scare easily (as superheroes, they couldn't afford to be) and Tony Stark would bet his entire fortune that none of them would ever admit that they were.

"We must find our Captain. Quickly." Thor, his voice finally heard since Cap's silence, was loud and booming as he always was.

"Not shit, Sherlock," Tony snapped, his own fear sharpening his already barbed tongue. "And I've just been sitting and taking a break for the past few minutes."

"Knock it off!" Natasha ordered; she sounded like she was recovering from a long run. "Arguing isn't going to help us find Steve."

She was right, of course—she usually was, not that Tony would ever tell her that—but it still did nothing to calm any of their racing hearts because it had been almost five minutes since Cap's sudden silence and the Avengers still hadn't found him—

And what's more, crying out the first true curse any of the Avengers had ever heard him utter, they had all heard that Steve had been _scared_.

Truly terrified.

"Sir," Jarvis suddenly spoke up to Tony, "I have picked up Captain Rogers's signal."

"Show me," Tony said immediately, "and get us there, like, five minutes ago."

The signature reading was garbled, weak, as if composed of static, and for a moment the billionaire genius floundered in confusion until he figured out what his destination was. "Aw, hell," he whispered, then spoke aloud for the rest of the team. "Cap's gone for a bath in the Hudson."

"That's—good, is it not?" Thor inquired, grunting in effort as he fought off a small horde of the creatures. Lightning flashed briefly, followed by a rumble of low thunder, and two dozen charred bodies fell to the ground. "You Midgardians are adequate swimmers, after all."

"It could be," Natasha answered tersely, "if Cap was answering his comm."

Tony hovered, trying to find the exact location of Steve's heat signature—and dived headfirst into the water, glad that he had made his suit waterproof.

Ten feet down he found him, a ghostly grey figure drifting suspended in the water bleached of color. Unmoving. The body of the alien that had dragged Steve here was still feebly stirring another five feet down, and Tony was tempted to blast it with his repulsor rays just so he could relieve some of his growing anger. But that would waste valuable seconds.

"C'mon, Cap, don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead…" He repeated it over and over again, desperate for the man to hear him. He grabbed hold of the Captain's lax body and shot up as quickly as he could up to the surface, water droplets catching the sunlight as Iron Man reached the surface.

Oh god oh god oh _god_ —

Steve wasn't breathing. Even without his suit's systems telling him so, Tony could tell. His skin was a waxy grey, open lips tainted blue. Jarvis's voice was loud in Tony's ears but he wasn't hearing a word, all of his attention focused on the fact that by every reading his suit was giving him, Steve was fucking _dead_.

"Thor," his voice was dark, shaking with fear and fury, but not grief, no, not that, not yet, "light all of these bastards up. _Now_!"

He landed on the nearest dock, laying his companion prone on the ground as he removed his helmet. Water was lazily drifting away in an ever-growing puddle around them, and immediately Tony bent over and started CPR, heart racing.

"Stark!" Natasha's strained shout finally cut through his frenzy. "Is he—"

"Dead. Damn it, he's dead, and I don't—I don't know if this CPR is gonna work—he's drowned, Natasha, that alien dropped him in the water and let him _drown_ —"

An awesome bolt of lightning lit up the sky, blindingly bright and as hot as the sun, and Hulk's roar of fury followed in its wake like thunder. Thor's anger had finally broken its boundaries and with it his ability to keep a hold of his power. Aliens began to fall like fried flies all over the place as tendrils of lightning trailed everywhere, touching the pavement, licking the sides of buildings.

Tony swallowed hard, fisted hands pumping feverishly at Steve's chest. "C'mon, Cap, wake up, just wake up, you can't give up like this—" One two three four, one two three four, over and over again. Natasha appeared like a ghost beside him; to her credit she barely hesitated, kneeling on Cap's opposite side and tilting his head back, trying to open his airway. Her eyes were flinty—it was clear she wanted nothing more than to murder several more of the aliens where they stood.

After two more chest compressions, her mouth twisted and abruptly she leaned over, opened Steve's mouth wider, and shoved two long fingers down the super soldier's throat.

Steve choked, his body automatically reacting in its gag reflex as it tried to rid itself of the object in its way, and with it came a lot of water. His back arced up and off the ground as he began to cough and choke in earnest, and finally Natasha removed her fingers from his mouth and helped Tony turn him into his side so that the water could run onto the pavement beneath them.

He was still unresponsive.

"Damn it," Tony whispered. "How soon is a medic team going to get here?"

"Three minutes, twenty-two seconds, sir," Jarvis said in his ear.

From all appearances, Steve didn't _have_ two minutes. From Natasha's pale face, Tony gathered she didn't think so either.

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They got a heartbeat. Finally. Nearly a minute later, and one minute fifteen seconds before the medic team reached the dock, Tony managed to catch a pulse. Faint and fluttering, but miraculously _there_ , and Steve's worried teammates could have wept with relief. And then the paramedics were there, bundling Cap up and placing an oxygen mask over his still-blue mouth, and hustling him away.

The rest of the Avengers, dirt covered and sore and exhausted, made their own way to the hospital. It was slow-going and the silence hovering in the air was strained. Natasha's face was coolly detached, hiding whatever fears she had underneath a veneer of ice; Clint was likewise stony-faced, but he kept close to Natasha's side. Thor, his long hair tangled and soot-stained, still looked like he could blow a hole ten miles deep into the surface of Manhattan if he was given the chance. The Hulk, having found that all of the aliens had been finished, had slowly calmed down enough that soon he had shrunk into Banner, who was even more grave than usual.

They had come close to losing one of their own today. Too close. Sure, there had been some close calls before—fighting as a team for the past four months, there were bound to be those moments—but none of them had been effectively dead.

Especially not Captain America.

"There wasn't any trauma," Tony said quietly in the silence. The team sat spread around the room that the hospital had placed Steve in as he recovered. "No blows to his head or anything to confuse him underneath the water." He leaned back in his seat, head resting none-too-gently on the wall behind him.

Thor, seated on the floor closest to the bed, shook his head. "And why does that matter where our Captain is concerned? What spell was placed upon him to bring such confusion?"

"There wasn't any spell, Point Break." Tony's voice was rough. "He drowned because he doesn't know how to swim." He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed a drink. "I knew Cap was a damn idiot but I didn't think he'd be stupid enough not to tell us that. Not drowning on us would be really nice, you know?"

"Stop it, Tony," Bruce chided him softly from his seat. "He clearly didn't think it would be an issue. We can talk to him about it later."

 _After he's woken up._

The clear warning in the scientist's voice successfully quelled the billionaire's sharp tongue for the moment but oh boy, was Tony going to have words with their smart-but-so-incredibly-dumb leader soon. Now that the moment of crisis had come and gone and Steve had started to breathe again, Tony's fear had slowly melted away and left a surprising amount of anger behind.

It had been an hour since the doctor's had taken a look at Steve, after they had finished pumping his stomach of excess water and making sure he wasn't going to die by dry drowning. Luckily the serum in his body had helped heal broken blood vessels and the raw air passages that his body had irritated trying to expel all the water that had very nearly killed him. He had gone without oxygen for nearly eight minutes and that was certainly a concern for the doctors but Steve had survived seventy years in ice without brain damage so he wasn't so worried about that.

He just needed the moron to wake up so that he could yell at him. "Did any of those aliens survive?"

Clint shook his head wordlessly. Thor's anger and the Hulk's rage had dealt with the last of them.

Tony sighed and went back to staring at the opposite wall.

He really needed to punch something.

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A/N: Part 2 coming very soon. I apologize if some of the medical or CPR procedures were off—I have never had to perform CPR on someone and certainly not after they've drowned. All mistakes are my own.


	2. Chapter 2

" _ **Chapter 2"**_

When Steve woke up nothing hurt but he was struck by the thought that something should. Remembered pain, hidden in his muscles and locked away deep in his mind so that for a long moment he simply felt himself breathe fresh air and wondered how he had woken up at all. And that was when he realized what it was that was missing: the _should_.

Water everywhere, pressing on every side.

 _Drowning._

The pain, the terror—it all came crashing in at once and his eyes snapped open to find himself in a hospital room. Alone. There were no machines, nothing hooked up to his body or measuring out vitals, but without the steady beeping of said machines the panic that was threatening to choke him wasn't grounded.

 _Alone._

Where was his team?

There had been times, before the serum, when he had sometimes felt detached from his own boy. During a bout of illness he had looked down idly at his own bony arm lying so still against the blanket and he simply hadn't _felt_ it. His arm had not felt connected to his body despite it being right there and he'd wondered if he would be able to move it at all. He never panicked in those moments (of which there were surprisingly several over the years), perhaps too tired to be, but the outcome was always the same: he would stare at that strange, absent-feeling arm for several seconds and wondering at the detachment he felt before he would grow bored of the game he'd allowed himself to play. He'd move his arm just like that, and the spell would be broken, and he would wonder at the power of the human mind.

He felt suddenly like that now—detached—but this time he couldn't snap himself out of the spell.

"Cap?"

 _Clint_. Thank god. Steve didn't think he'd ever been so happy to hear someone's voice since finding Bucky in Zola's lab. With a short shuddering gasp he felt the phantom paralysis shatter and he could move again.

"Whoa! Cap—Steve, hey, it's okay. It's okay." Clint's voice was close now, lilting slightly in concern that would be nonetheless entirely absent from his face. Steve felt one of the archer's strong hands grip his arm, right above the wrist. The feeling of skin on skin was an electric shock, further waking Steve up from his fear, and he struggled to swallow past a dry throat. The ice was still a hovering memory, as was the awful suffocation of drowning, and he was dangerously close to losing control all over again.

"Breathe, Cap. C'mon, calm down." Clint was still with him; the archer wasn't about to lose him. His voice, so firm and steady, was exactly what Steve needed. "Deep breath. C'mon, deep breath."

Deep breath in.

Let it out.

Deep breath in.

Let it out.

After the inhale on the second breath his brain remembered that this was the way through pain, whether it was from a severe coughing fit from pneumonia or the throbbing pain of a beating in a back alley in Brooklyn (or watching a best friend plummet to his death hundreds of feet down from a broken train door). Releasing that second breath was steadier and deeper than the first, as was the third and fourth that followed.

"'m okay," he rasped out, wincing at the scratchy sandpaper of his voice. He needed a drink.

Clint saw that and he moved away from the bed to grab a glass already sitting full on the side table. "Figures you would wake up when we weren't here." He handed Steve the glass and sat down in a chair, answering Steve's questioning look. "You've been out for about twelve hours. We've been taking shifts but Fury called us in for a debriefing, something about a last-minute intel about the battle, and so we've only just out."

Leave it to Clint to put it like they'd escaped jail. Steve allowed himself to grin just a bit, more focused on what the archer had just told him. Twelve hours. It wasn't unusual for all of the team to crash and crash hard after a battle. Clint and Natasha because of their very normal human bodies, Steve because of the super soldier serum burning through his system at a hyperactive rate; and then Bruce, whose transformations to and from the Hulk wore a heavy tax on his body. It was usually the doctor who slept the longest and depending on the severity of the fight was while the Hulk was also the one who took longest to recover. Steve had wondered why a man barely in his forties would look so haggard and aged, but now he knew. The longest Steve himself had slept following a battle was eighteen hours, so twelve wasn't so concerning.

"How's the team?"

Clint didn't comment on the clear question and Steve's evident disregard of his own personal safety or wellbeing, even though the flat expression in his eyes told the super soldier that he would like to say something about it anyway. "All okay. Nat was scraped up by a falling ledge after Thor fried all those bugs but it was nothing too serious. Bruce's transformation wasn't too serious. Mostly he's been looking after you." The archer was quiet for a moment. "We all have."

It was exceedingly rare for Clint to be so transparent, so open. Master assassins simply didn't do emotions. Steve's lungs throbbed with remembered struggle for air and he was suddenly afraid to find out just how bad his drowning had been.

Clint read his expression again and smiled in a small, sharp way. Oh yes, Steve realized, he really didn't want to know the details. "You were dead for almost eight minutes. Heart stopped. Tony found you ten feet below the surface. He's going to kick your ass, by the way, Cap, so be ready."

"When has Tony ever _not_ threatened that?" Steve countered wearily, looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to get up, to move; he had never been one to lay around and dwell—it used to worry his mother something fierce when he'd been young.

Then there was a tremendous crash outside the door and Clint muttered, "speak of the devil" just before Tony Stark himself sauntered into sight.

"Oh look who finally decided to wake up," he said snidely, and it was the biting edge in his voice that told both the soldier and the archer just how upset he really was. "Although if you're trying for beauty sleep it's not gonna work for you, Spangles."

Ouch. Normally Steve would've responded readily but this time he didn't. Maybe he was still too out of it (which was a complete and utter bullshit lie), or maybe it was the simple fact that he didn't want to fight about this (Steve had never been one to fight about himself, after all) but it was clear in the tense, waiting silence that a fight was exactly what Tony was looking for.

And with no response to his tauntings and insults, Tony's acid tongue covered up his concern and fear with only more of the same.

"'Just a quick mission'," he mocked, with a dark and almost savage expression, "'won't take more than a couple of hours'. Then out esteemed, respected leader lets himself go for a little swim—"

"Tony." Bruce's low, warning tone came from the doorway; the doctor came in followed by Natasha. Bruce silently cleaned his glasses on the edge of his comfortably-worn shirt, his familiar wearied expression showing that he had not yet rested—and that Tony had clearly been going at this for quite a while. Thankfully the genius billionaire listened to Bruce, even if he didn't look particularly happy about it, and moved aside to the far wall with a dark look. Natasha stopped on Clint's opposite side and offered Steve a thin smile, which only made him more nervous about the situation; if he had managed to piss off Black Widow then he must have scared them all more than he'd originally thought.

Thor chose that moment to walk through the door, the smell of electricity wafting along behind him. His long blood red cape was singed and torn but other than that and a streak of ash across his cheek he looked unharmed. He, at least, seemed pleased that Steve was awake. "How dost thou, my friend?" he asked Steve, as if it were only the two of them in the room. "You gave us all a mighty scare."

Sometimes Steve suspected that Thor only spoke such old dialect around the rest of the Avengers to amuse himself—it sure as hell was startling to hear the demigod to say 'thou'. "Been better," he admitted quietly, feeling his face heat up. He's known among the team as one of the quietest of them; once he shrugged the layer of Captain America off, Steve Rogers was quiet and unassuming, content to merely watch until he felt he needed to step in. It wasn't often he was in the spotlight like this and he hated it.

He wanted to go home.

Tony's snort from the wall was loud in the quiet. "I'd be too if I'd just _died_ for eight minutes—"

Natasha's sharp elbow caught the billionaire directly beneath the ribs.

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Taking a shower was out the picture.

Steve only had to listen to the water running in the bathroom and he knew he couldn't face a steady stream of water hitting him in the face. It had been bad enough when he'd woken from the ice—now, with this second incident, he very nearly left the room completely. But he still wore the remnants of the battle on skin that had been covered by his suit and he could easily smell the heady water of the Hudson in his hair and for some reason it made him nauseous.

Well. It was going to have to go.

Sighing, Steve grabbed a couple washcloths and set the water going in the sink. He had taken a lot of sponge baths after he'd woken in the 21st century; he was just going to have to do the same again now.

It didn't make him completely clean but it was better than before. The Hudson was at least gone and the leftover grime wiped away, and he felt better to be in his own skin again.

"How are you, Captain Rogers?" Jarvis asked him when he finally left the bathroom. Steve was familiar enough with Tony's personable AI that he didn't startle like he had in the beginning, only offering a tired smile and a shrug.

"Fine, Jarvis. Where's the rest of the group?"

"Sir is in his lab, working on fixing his suit and Dr. Banner has set himself up in one of sir's labs on the twenty-fourth floor. Thor is not yet back. Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanov have requested I not look in on them."

Clint and Natasha were what Tony called "secret-not secret", which Steve took to mean that the two master assassins were together but weren't supposed to be discussed; he wasn't the prying type, anyway, so he never brought it up. He was surprised, however, by the sharp twist he suddenly felt in his heart, and for a moment his thoughts flickered to Peggy.

But then he shook himself and thanked Jarvis for the information before heading on his way.

It was time, he supposed, to face the group and find out how the battle had went.

It wasn't going to be fun.

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A/N: Jeez, it's been almost a month since I posted the first chapter. RL got in the way. Third (and final) chapter should be up within the next couple of weeks.

Thank you for the all the feedback and favorites so far!


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